New Obsession
by cryfhau aill
Summary: Peter can paint the future. So can Sylar. So neither was surprised when they suddenly slipped into an 'episode' and started to paint. If they had been next to each other, they might have thought it was odd that they had begun at the exact same time. SLASH


Peter can paint the future. So can Sylar. So neither was surprised when they suddenly slipped into an 'episode' and started to paint. If they had been next to each other, they might have thought it was odd that they had begun at the exact same time.

Sylar was in his stolen studio where Isaac Mendez once lived. He was standing in front of a canvas wearing a black shirt that was fairly nice. His sleeves were pulled up and it was untucked over his black jeans. His jacket lay on a chair just two feet away.

Sylar liked not having to actually paint. For awhile, he fingerpainted, but now he just used his telekinesis and he was done faster than he ever was before. It took him less than five minutes to finish closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly in order to clear his mind of the images.

It was odd looking into the future. It consisted of broken images that, once painted, turned into a riddle. They don't remember painting, they just do it as if in a drunken haze. The difference was no hangover.

The picture he had just painted now, however, have him a headache worse than a headache. No matter what angle he looked at it, it still had the same message.

Peter Petrelli. What are you doing to me? he wondered.

He crossed the room to the chair with his jacket on it and sat, still examining his painting. He wondered if this future was meant to happen or if he should stop it. He wasn't even sure he wanted to. That puzzled him into annoyance.

Peter was standing in his bedroom staring out of the window when it began. He felt the familiar sensation of being sucked into the future, peering through a huge looking-glass where all he saw was broken, hyphened peeks. He finished within twenty minutes, putting down his brush on the table next to it and opening his eyes. The first thing he always noticed was the skill that went into the pictures. It still blew his mind that he could paint that well by just coming into contact with a painter. Of course that wasn't his talent, but how could one decipher the picture if it was done in stick figures? He couldn't even paint before his encounter with Isaac. It wasn't his talent, however. He stole it.

He was no better than Sylar.

Except he was because he didn't cut people's heads open to get the power. He just stood there and absorbed it.

His recent assignment was to find his arch nemesis Sylar. So he had trained his power to look for him in his visions. He felt intrusive, but didn't mind because he was finding a serial killer. Criminals like that don't deserve privacy. Besides Sylar most likely used the power to find him because he knew Peter was the only one who could stop him.

Peter looked at the painting. It was Sylar alright. It looked like he was in a mirror peering at himself in a speculative manner. His shoulders were bare and his hair was a bit of a mess.

That wasn't what caught Peter's eye. It was the image in the background. But just as he leaned forward to get a better look at it, he was thrown against the wall. Instinctively he ran, only to be kicked onto the floor. Another kick went to his ribs and he heard one crack. Then a hand went around his neck, nearly crushing it. He looked down at Sylar. Of course it was Sylar. It always was. They always ended up back in this position, one sent to kill the other. Maybe because the only one who could kill them was each other....or maybe for another reason.

"What did you do?" Sylar said calmly. He looked over at the painting Peter had just finished and glared back at Peter. "What did you DO?!"

Peter squinted at Sylar. What the heck was he talking about? All he did was paint a picture of what he saw. He grew tired of being clamped to the wall. He wondered why Sylar wasn't just using his telekinesis. It worked to his advantage, however, because he just punched Sylar in the stomach and he was released. It didn't hurt that bad, but it knocked the wind out of him enough to separate them.

"What are you talking about Sylar?" Peter gasped. He looked at the man a foot away from him. Intense chocolate brown eyes glared into his green ones. The long face was drawn into a sneer. He was a handsome man, Peter had to admit, despite the obvious malevolent intent lurking in his eyes. He had thought so for a long time. He wasn't gay or anything, but there was something about that tall, dark, and brooding man that just wouldn't leave his mind. Still, he had no idea it would turn into....THAT.

Peter peered at his picture. Sylar noticed and followed his gaze. Peter's eyes watched Sylar as he approached the painting, studying it with cold scrutinizing eyes.

"I don't know either." Peter spoke softly.

Sylar turned to be faced with the shorter man mere steps from him. He swallowed which proved to be harder to do in this close proximity. He didn't get it. He was a cold-blooded killer. Why did this idea bother him? Perhaps his mother's Catholic ways were still pounded in his brain. She would surely roll in her grave if she knew he was even thinking about this.

Studying his opponent, Sylar began to see what every woman who came into even a block radius of Peter saw. He was very handsome. He had perfect milky skin that screamed innocence, but a confident look that said he definitely knew what he was doing. Sylar suddenly thought it was a fantastic idea for Peter to be under him, screaming his name. A shocked intake of breath filled the silence. Sylar started. Something had just pulled out of his mind, like a presence. He studied Peter and suddenly realized that Peter could read his mind. Now where did he acquire that little trick? He would have to find that person after he was done with his dear nemesis.

Sylar took in Peter's look on his face said he heard that last bit. His eyebrows were up and he had a look of disbelief, confusion, and something else....could it be excitement? Anticipation? Sylar conjured up a mental image of Peter doing exactly what he had previously suggested, knowing that Peter would see it and was surprised that he enjoyed it very much.

"So...wha....what do we do now?" Peter stuttered. He suddenly seemed nervous. Sylar wondered if he had ever been the submissive one. He suddenly decided he wanted to find out exactly what Peter would look like when he was dominated. He could have fun with this. After all he was the villain and, no matter what, villains have fun.

Sylar looked at Peter once more letting all the Catholic schoolboy doubt ease away.

"We have fun." With that he lunged at Peter, knocking him into the wall.

Before Peter could move Sylar was flush up against him breathing heavily onto his cheek his hand resting on Peter's throat. It wasn't a hard pressure but it clearly stated 'stay where you are'. Peter thought he could feel every single muscle in the taller man's body as he pinned him to the wall. He felt a knee gently pry open his legs and rub against his crouch. A moan escaped his parted lips and his eyes rolled to the back of his head for a second. This seemed to please Sylar. He moved to let go, but Peter decided to get even for that move. He pulled his nemesis against him again and thrust his hips up into Sylar's manhood as hard as he could.

Sylar growled and glared down at Peter. Peter just stood there looking back with half-lidded eyes, mouth open, waiting for something to happen. Suddenly the glare turned to one of lust and possession and he dove in for a kiss. It was rough like everything Sylar did. Still, Peter loved it. Sylar bit down on Peter's lower lip demanding entrance and drawing blood at the same time. He complied gratefully. The wound on his lip immediately closed up but the bloody taste lingered. Sylar's tongue and lips were surprisingly soft despite the brute force they were being pushed into Peter's.

Peter got an idea. He wondered if Elle's little trick worked on Sylar. "Just a little jolt," she would say. He put his hand on Sylar's chest and let the small electric shock come out.

Sylar stopped mid-kiss. He recognized the familiar shock right away. It...well...shocked him, just not in the usual sense. He pulled away from Peter and stared down at him. He had a strange feeling inside of his chest. It wasn't pain or longing or sadness, but something else. He missed that little shock. He didn't care who was attached to it, but he just....liked it. At first, he hated it and wanted to kill Elle when she did it. Then it became a source of stimulation. He wasn't surprised. He had always been a bit of a masochist. He put his hand up and tore Peter's shirt off of him with one mighty yank, letting his telekinesis be the force behind it. Peter gasped, which drew Sylar's eyes back to his mouth. He put his finger in Peter's mouth feeling him suck on it and lick it and bite it lightly. While he did that, Sylar took the chance to take in Peter's perfect chest. The soft white skin covered well-defined muscles suggesting alot of strength.

Good, Sylar thought. We can have fun struggling for top. He felt sure he would win in the end though, especially after what he was going to do next. Sylar grinned.

Sylar's smirk was the only warning Peter got before Sylar pulled away from him. He watched the handsome figure walk calmly to his bed across the room and sit down, waiting patiently. He knew it was a show of power, but Peter didn't care. He gave him what he wanted, crossing to stand in front of him. He pushed his way between Sylar's legs and brushed his hand through the soft spiky hair. Sylar closed his eyes seemingly content then without warning he put his hands to either side of Peter's sweatpants and pulled them down. He grabbed ahold of one of Peter's balls, causing Peter to shudder and nearly collapse in ecstasy. But Sylar wasn't done. Something hot and wet encircled Peter's now prominent erection encasing the entire length in unbearable warmth. Peter yelled in surprise and pleasure. His hand found the back of Sylar's neck as he sucked hard on his penus. He was licking him in all the right places, his hands in the best places, one on a ball and one on an ass cheek. Peter knew he wouldn't last long. He felt the soft caresses from the hands and it only accentuated the exquisite moment. Peter felt the hot cum shooting up his dick. Apparently Sylar felt it too because at the last second he followed the vein with his tongue and took all the hot semen sucking and swallowing greedily. Peter screamed in pleasure his hand holding onto Sylar for support. Sylar's hand was on his hip also for support.

Peter felt Sylar's face lean forward to rest on his bare stomach his hair tickling him ever so slightly. He shivered and put out both arms to hold Sylar. Sylar's hands had wandered to Peter's still naked thighs and he was rubbing circles with his thumbs gently. Both were content.

Sylar smirked. He had his enemy screaming and he wasn't even close to being done with him. But this also felt really...nice. He kissed Peter's stomach then kissed it again and again. Peter's hand went into his hair and forced him to look up. Peter looked somewhat confused like he didn't know where the tenderness was coming from. Sylar couldn't say himself, he just did what came to him. Like right now he wanted Peter on top of him. He put his hands on Peter's thighs and brought him closer. Peter stepped out of his sweatpants and climbed on to straddle Sylar. Sylar was pushed back and an insistent mouth nipped and kissed his neck. He moaned and turned his head allowing the younger man more access. Peter began to slowly grind against him making him think that having clothes on just then was annoying him.

"Undress me." he said in Peter's ear. Peter's hair smelled so good that Sylar almost attacked him again.

Peter got up and began to undress him. He leaned on his elbows and watched the lean naked man as he worked his pants off going down to kiss a random stretch of skin every so often. Peter was so....beautiful. It took his breath away to watch him. Peter looked up and into Sylar's eyes. He grinned his lopsided grin.

"You're pretty sexy yourself." Peter said. Apparently he had been listening in to Sylar's thoughts.

You naughty boy. I'm going to have to punish you for that. But Peter didn't hear. He had gone back to the task at hand.

Peter was done undressing him. They both stared at each other wondering if they would ever know anyone as perfect as the person in front of them.

Peter could see a hidden emotion behind the lust in Sylar's eyes. He couldn't really tell what it was. Getting into Sylar's mind wasn't easy. The guy had an ironclad will and he could only get bits and pieces when he was preoccupied. At the moment he would have killed for a glimpse, a flicker, anything that would allow him to understand what Sylar was thinking.

He moved in to kiss him, allowing his hand to find Sylar's cock.

But Sylar held it where it was so he couldn't begin to rub him. Peter looked down questioningly.

"Don't," was the only answer Sylar gave.

He doesn't want me. How could I be so stupid? Maybe he figured it out.

He made to get off trying to keep his face smooth, expressionless. Sylar stopped him, but Peter couldn't look at him or he would hurt more. A hand brought his face around anyway, so he closed his eyes.

"And where do you think you're going?" Sylar said roughly into his ear sending a shiver down Peter's spine. "Did I say you could leave?"

Suddenly Peter was on his back with Sylar above him looking at him possessively.

"I'm in charge tonight." Sylar put Peter's hands above his head and kissed his lips passionately. His movements held authority but he made sure there was no overbearing force.

He wasn't sure what that pained look was for when he told him to stop earlier, but he felt the urge to remedy it....and fast. So he decided to make love to him.

Four hours went by before they grew too tired to go on anymore. Peter knew he had to leave soon. It had already grown dark outside.

Sylar was watching him, he could feel it. Peter had lain his head on Sylar's chest and their bodies were intertwined together in the sheets. Their breathing was still slightly faster than normal. Peter could hear Sylar's heart under his chest. Sylar could just hear Peter's heart with his super hearing.

After a few more minutes of bliss, Sylar kissed Peter on the forehead and untangled himself from the bed and Peter.

"Bathroom," he said before Peter asked. He nodded. He heard Sylar in his bathroom emptying his bladder in Peter's toilet. He smiled at the thought of a few weeks ago when he would have gawked at the thought of SYLAR using his facilities.

Peter heard a flush and Sylar came out, still brilliantly naked, and moved to get back in bed. But about halfway across the room, Sylar gasped. Peter sat up worried and saw Sylar's eyes go white. He put out a finger and Peter knew he was painting a picture. He was done in two minutes. Peter wanted to go and see but he didn't want to intrude, so he sat and stared at him, watching his perfect form stand absolutely still.

Then Sylar closed and opened his eyes going back to himself.

"Wow, what was...." Sylar had a strange expression on his face, something that looked suspiciously like a mix of pain, anger, and confusion.

"Sy-"

"Interesting." Sylar said, not looking at Peter or even acknowledging him.

Privacy be damned, Peter got up and went to look at the painting. Sylar didn't try to stop him.

It was a man on his naked stomach, arms outstretched, hands fisting the blankets. His face was up with an agonizing expression. There was a hand yanking on his brown hair. That was it. Sylar had stopped at that. But the image looked like all the other pictures of Peter.

Peter looked at Sylar. He could hardly breathe. Sylar was looking at him blankly.

"What did you see?" Peter asked not willing to meet the other man's gaze.

"I saw us fucking again." Sylar said. Peter could hear his voice crack so he looked up to investigate. Sylar's face had changed. He had a smirk on his face that didn't seem real. He moved towards Peter.

Peter backed away saying, "Actually I have somewhere to be. Later?"

Sylar nodded. He sat on the bed stiffly.

"So will he notice that you've been with me?" Sylar said softly, almost too quiet to hear.

The question stopped Peter cold. He stopped searching for his pants and looked at Sylar.

Sylar met his gaze evenly with a glare. "Will he smell me?"

Sylar got up and stepped towards Peter. The old Sylar was back, he could hear it in the hard edge to his voice. "Will he try to replace my scent with his own?"

Peter tried to move away, but Sylar clamped on to his arm wheeling him around to look at him.

"So," Sylar moved closer to Peter with the word. "How does it feel to fuck your own brother?" Sylar let go of his arm. "To be raped by him?"

Peter's head snapped up. He had to protect Nathan.

"Rape? No rape. I came onto him." he said quickly looking away. "I keep it going." He tried to sound convincing but he wasn't sure if it was working.

Sylar snorted.

"So...what? Is that where you have to go?" Peter decided not to answer. He felt a hand on his shoulder. "You want to be here with me, I can tell, so why leave?" Sylar questioned.

Peter wrenched his arm free. "How do you know what I want?" he spat, commiting himself to make Sylar mad enough to let him go. He just couldn't let Nathan down. That wasn't what he was about.

"Fine." Sylar sighed. "Convince me that you would rather be with him than me. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me right now." Sylar challenged in his best dangerous voice.

Peter stepped up right in his face. He had to do this. There was no other way. Better to hurt him now then later, he kept telling himself.

"I want Nathan," Peter said."Not you."

The bile rose in his throat at the lie. He wanted so badly to stay with Sylar and make love all night, but he had responsibilities. Nathan was so lonely lately.

Sylar's face was neutral, but his voice was harsh when he said, "Then go."

Before Peter could change his mind, he grabbed his clothes and shot out of the open window, desperate to get away before he was tempted any more.

Sylar looked after him, a strange lonely feeling growing inside. He knew what he had to do. He had to show Peter who Nathan really was. Maybe Peter knew and didn't care, but Sylar still had to try. He got dressed and went out the door to find Peter, his new obsession.

Peter woke up in the dark wondering how the hell he got wherever he was when he heard voices. The light was turned on in the room in front of him. The voices belonged to Nathan and Sylar. Peter was about to get up and open the door, but the sound of Nathan laughing stopped him. He put his ear to the door and listened.

Sylar had caught a cab to Nathan's home and waited for Peter. When Peter came to the door Sylar hit him with a rock and quickly went to hide him in a small closet inside the house. Then he went out again and waited for Nathan.

"Sylar. What are you doing here?" Nathan said, not sounding pleased or surprised to see him there.

"Oh, I'm just wanting to have a little chat." Sylar said shrugging. "May I come in? Or do you want to be seen with a known killer on your doorstep?"

Nathan grudgingly invited him in.

"Soooo...." Sylar said, looking around. "Hm. If you want to be President then you're going to have to get a better housekeeper." Clothes were piled on a table and dirty glasses were in the sink. Nathan laughed.

"President? I gave that up. It is not my path, I suppose."

"And what is your path?" Sylar asked looking at Nathan. "To screw your brother because it makes you feel good? Whole maybe?"

Nathan's head shot up. "What are you talking about? I never..."

"I painted it. I was walking back from the bathroom and I got a glimpse into Peter's future."

"And why were you thinking about Peter in the first place?" Nathan said. Sylar's eyebrow quirked at Nathan's possessive tone.

"Because he was lying naked in my bed. We had just finished making love." Sylar said calmly watching Nathan's reaction.

"What are you talking about?" Nathan suddenly laughed. "You're lying. Peter is mine. He always will be." He went over to a cabinet and took out a bottle of gin. He poured some in a glass, then offered Sylar some.

Sylar declined saying, "Oh yeah? Well, he does have a sick loyalty to you."

Nathan laughed. "Yes that is one of his many uses. That, and he can make a man forget everything bad about this world."

Sylar's brow quirked again as a sick feeling began to grow in his stomach. "Oh?"

Nathan looked up at Sylar. "He's just so ripe and innocent. You can't help take that for a ride." Nathan looked down swirling the gin in his hand. "I can see how you couldn't resist him."

"So what you're saying is that he's some sort of toy for you, nothing more?" Sylar asked.

"What else is someone so naive and trusting there for? It's not like he could run for President. He'd be giving people like you seats in Congress and then where would we be? He would destroy the world." Nathan laughed at the irony.

"But..." Sylar said in a small voice. "...he's your brother."

Nathan snorted taking a drink. "Sometimes I'm not so sure."

Peter couldn't comprehend and definitely did not want to believe what he was hearing. Sylar had to be creating some kind of illusion so that he would be hearing all of this. Maybe he wasn't even in Nathan's apartment house. Maybe it was some other place. So, he grasped around for the knob and stumbled out of the door.

Sylar felt absolutely disgusted with himself for doing this to Peter. And the look on his face when he came out of that closet door was almost unbearable. He watched as Peter looked at Nathan with a pain that only a betrayed brother could have. Nathan looked shocked then angry then finally...amused. Sylar marveled at the thought of anyone finding pleasure from that handsome face contorted into such seering pain.

"W-w-why?!" Peter yelled. Sylar felt that it was directed at him as well for some reason. The disgusted and sick feeling grew.

Nathan laughed. "I guess you had to find out sometime little brother." He took a drink and got up turning to Sylar. "I'll just leave you to deal with this. After all, he's your toy now." He laughed again then went to the window and flew away.

Sylar looked at Peter tentatively. He looked to be hyperventilating. His wide eyes looked from the window, down to the floor, to the ceiling. He couldn't seem to look at Sylar.

Sylar didn't like this. He wanted him to look at him, come to him, let him hold him. He made a move towards Peter. Peter looked at him. The pain and anger was consuming him, Sylar could tell. He hated this. He almost wished he never let Peter hear what Nathan had to say. Almost.

He was glad he did, however, because now he had the chance to help Peter. He would help him heal and move on.

Sylar could have laughed. Where was the malicious serial killer now? He was hiding behind the protective lover apparently. Sylar sighed and stepped forward, but when he did Peter stepped back. Sylar noticed Peter's hands looked a little brighter than usual.

"Stay away from me." Peter said. He might as well have pulled a whip out and hit Sylar with it. It hurt that much.

"Peter I..."

"NO! YOU'RE NOT!" Peter yelled, tears coming into his eyes. "You really do just see me as a toy. Just like Nathan. Someone you can manipulate....and control....and PLAY WITH!"

With each word his hands began to glow brighter and brighter. Peter looked frantically down then back at Sylar. There was a tiny hint of a plea for help. Sylar took it and ran with it. He stepped forward cautiously.

Peter was too preoccupied looking at his hands to notice what Sylar was doing. When he looked up, Sylar was a mere two paces from him. He tried to step back, but the seering heat in his body and the intense effort it took to keep it in was too much to move. Peter looked down once again. Would he be able to control it much longer? He didn't think so.

Just then Peter noticed Sylar's hands. They were coated in ice. He stood there unable to move as Sylar's frozen hands covered his overheated ones. At first it hurt and the heat intensified. Then Sylar put his head close to Peter's and whispered in his ear.

"Let me help you," he said.

Sylar held Peter's hands until it started to feel good for both of them. He then let his hands slowly slide up Peter's bare arms. Peter shivered still keeping his eyes on Sylar's hands. He was almost scared. Peter felt Sylar's hands as the went up to his shoulders then he put one on Peter's face while the other lingered on his neck.

Peter closed his eyes as he felt fingers brush his lips promptly followed by another set of lips.

The kiss was searching as if Sylar was actually afraid that Peter would pull away. Peter wished he could, but he just couldn't. It felt too right. He should be angry at being manipulated again, but he didn't feel like he was. He should feel hollow for losing his brother but he was encircled now in Sylar's arms and all he felt was SAFE.

Sylar finally pulled away and Peter nearly collapsed from the intensity of using all that power and the sheer passion of that kiss. Sylar caught him neatly, holding him against his chest and rubbing his back with his thumb.

When he was sure Peter was together enough, he pulled away and looked Peter directly in the eye.

"Peter Petrelli," he put his hand up to caress Peter's face. "You are not a toy."

Later that evening, lying in bed naked after making love all day, something caught Peter's attention. They were back in Isaac's old loft. Peter felt slightly dirty at the thought of sleeping where his old rival had once slept, but the body entangled with his pushed all those thoughts out of his head.

Across the room there was a painting he had not yet noticed. He assumed they were all seen already. This one, however, was Sylar's, Peter could just tell. Most of the picture was obscured by a white sheet, so Peter looked up at Sylar.

"What is that?" he asked softly and pointed to the picture. Sylar looked over at it and laughed. Peter frowned, confused.

"THAT is the reason all of this is happening." Sylar said in his ear.

"Then I like it already." Peter said.

Sylar grinned and put his finger out. The picture came, leaving the sheet behind, and hovered in front of both of them. It was Peter. He was naked. Behind him was Sylar. One of Sylar's arms was enclosed around Peter's waist. The other was connected to a hand wrapped around Peter's cock. Peter's head was thrown back on Sylar's shoulder with his eyes closed in ecstacy. So that is why Sylar had come to him in the first place. It makes sense now.

"Oh yes, I definitely like it." Peter said. In response, Sylar kissed his forehead and chuckled.


End file.
